Between Brothers Read online

  In the back of my mind, I wondered what it would be like to have the kind of confidence to look Darren in the eye and ask if we could test that theory right there in my kitchen.

  Instead, I set my cup down and ran a hand through my hair. “Sounds like I need a damned degree in psychology to figure out if it’s worth taking a guy home.”

  Darren smirked. “It’s not as hard as it sounds. You’ll be fine. You just have to pay attention to his cues.” He sipped his coffee and leaned back in his chair. “Then, once you get him into bed, you’ve got to give him enough feedback to let him know if he’s doing the right thing.”

  I let out a frustrated breath. “I guess that’s going to take some work.”

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said. “Trust me. All it will take is a few cases of ‘I want this’ resulting in earth-shattering orgasms, and you’ll have no trouble asking in the future.”

  Prove it, Darren. Fucking prove it. Right here. Right now. I swallowed hard. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He grinned over the rim of his coffee cup. “Trust me.”

  Three

  I met Marty in a club the following Saturday night. Scrutinizing him using Darren’s advice, he seemed promising. His kiss was assertive but not overly aggressive. When his hand came to rest on the small of my back while we danced, the subtle movements of his fingertips on my skin gave me goosebumps. Judging by the look on his face, he knew full well what he was doing to me, and it wasn’t accidental.

  We danced our way into a dark corner, and didn’t bother dancing anymore. His hands were all over me as we made out like a couple of horny teenagers. He thumbed my nipple through my shirt and laughed softly as I moaned. I doubt he heard me over the thundering music, but I’m sure the look on my face spoke volumes.

  I gasped as his hand moved between my thighs. He shielded me with his body so that the rest of the club didn’t get an eyeful, and his fingers found my pussy.

  “I’ll bet you taste fucking amazing.” His voice was barely audible. He kissed my neck as he slipped his fingers inside me. In a throaty growl that I felt more than heard, he added, “Tell me you’re a woman who loves having her pussy eaten.”

  My breath caught in my throat and Darren’s voice echoed in my head: Well, the first thing you need to do is find a man who wants nothing more in the world than to get you off.

  Jackpot.

  Speech eluded me, so I simply nodded, shivering at the ragged breath he exhaled against my neck. He kissed my shoulder, taking my breath away with the softness of his lips. Over the blasting music in the club, I couldn’t hear what he said to me, but I could feel his voice on my skin. I didn’t need him to repeat it to understand that he was suggesting we go someplace else.

  He didn’t live far from the club, so he invited me to his apartment. When we got there, I realized it wasn’t an apartment at all: It was a spacious condo in one of the posh high-rises overlooking Puget Sound. If a woman wanted a sugar daddy, Marty was the man for her, but I wasn’t interested in his money or his house. I didn’t bother asking for the grand tour, and he didn’t offer. There was only one room in the house that I was interested in.

  We wasted no time getting to his bedroom and into his California king-sized bed, but once we’d reached that destination, Marty slowed everything down.

  My first couple of buttons were already open, but he took his sweet time unfastening the rest. He opened the first and focused his attention on the newly exposed flesh, trailing his fingertips across the “V” of skin until he was certain he’d explored all of it. I shivered at his gentle touch; it was the first time someone had taken his time with me like that, and between what he was doing then and the anticipation of what else he had planned, I was going out of my mind.

  He opened the next button, and his lips joined his fingers, kissing and touching as if he’d never tasted or touched a woman’s bare skin before. By the time my blouse was completely open, he hadn’t even touched my breasts, but I was on fire. If he was this tender and attentive above the waist, I could only imagine what he would do for my clit. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought.

  He finished undressing me and quickly got out of his own clothes. He kissed me, a long, tender kiss, running his hands all over my skin and through my hair. “You know,” he said. “You are a fantastic kisser.”

  I smiled. “As are you.”

  His smile turned into a grin. “I’d love to see what else your mouth can do.”

  “Would you?”

  “I would.”

  He laid back on the bed and I took his cock into my

  mouth. My jaw ached as I tried to accommodate him, but at least he was better-endowed than some of my previous conquests. With any luck, he would also last longer than Ken.

  “Oh, wow, you are good with your mouth,” he said, scrunching my hair in his hand as I sucked him. “A little bit slower. Yeah, just like that. Oh Jesus, that’s good.” Then, he stopped me. “Keep going like that and you’re going to make me come.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, running my tongue around the head of his cock and grinning as he gasped.

  “Not at all,” he said. “Except that I want to fuck you.” I sat back and he reached for what I was quickly coming to accept as the Universal Condom Storage Receptacle, his nightstand drawer. I chewed my lip; though I was eager to have his cock in my pussy, I wanted more. That, and he hadn’t gone down on me with that rather talented tongue of his. Disappointment started to creep in, but I remembered what Darren had said: Men aren’t mind readers, you know.

  Asking for anything in bed was miles out of my comfort zone, but really, what did I have to lose? And he’d given me direction, so clearly he was open to communication. I swallowed hard. “Wait.”

  He paused, a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”

  I smiled, hoping my embarrassment didn’t show. “I thought you wanted to taste my pussy?” Oh God, did I really just say that? Inside, I was cringing, and I was certain that my face was cherry red.

  Grinning, he set the condom back on the nightstand. “You got me so turned on, I nearly forgot.”

  Oh my God, I thought as he kissed my inner thigh. It worked. It actually worked. Darren, I could kiss you. That thought gave me pause, distracting me momentarily from where I was. I really could have kissed Darren. I’d have fucked him given half the chance. I’d—

  “Oh, Jesus,” I breathed as Marty’s tongue circled my clit. It was heavenly, absolutely heavenly.

  For a few minutes, anyway. Then he slid his fingers into me and started thrusting, the pain jarring me out of any almost-orgasmic bliss. I pulled away a little. Shit. I didn’t want him to stop licking my clit, but what he was doing with his fingers hurt.

  Darren’s ever-present voice of wisdom penetrated my consciousness again: Once you get him into bed, you’ve got to give him enough feedback to let him know if he’s doing the right thing.

  I wetted my lips. “Easy,” I said. “With your fingers, go slower.”

  The rhythm of his tongue’s rapid movements faltered, and I worried that I’d broken his concentration. His fingers slowed, but only slightly. He had long fingers, long enough to hit my cervix with room to spare, and even when he slowed down, it smarted each time.

  “That—” I flinched. “Not so deep.”

  The breath he released sounded annoyed, but he did pull his fingers out a little. It was enough to take the edge off, but it still wasn’t comfortable, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to get me off. I didn’t want to nag, though; what he did with his tongue was perfect, but his fingers were so distracting that I could barely feel it.

  I gritted my teeth and tried not to let him hear my frustrated sigh. This was definitely not working. Time for something else. “Fuck me,” I said. I flinched at the sound of my own voice. I’d used crude language since grade school, but it was surreal to use it in bed, let alone as a request. But I swallowed hard and said, “I want you to fuck me.”

&nb
sp; He lifted his head just long enough to say, “I want you to come first.” Then he was back to my clit.

  I moaned, thankful he didn’t seem to catch the fact that it was out of frustration, not arousal. I was fairly certain that his tongue had a chance of getting me off before daylight, but not with what he was doing with his fingers. Well, this is as good a time as any to learn to ask for what I want. “Just your tongue,” I said, forcing back my insecurities. “I like what your tongue is doing.”

  Still he fucked me with his fingers, and still it annoyed me. It was also starting to get painful again.

  “Just use your tongue,” I said.

  “Trust me, doll, I know what I’m doing,” he said.

  And I know what it’s doing to me. I remembered the condom on the nightstand, and cringed. If he kept this up,

  my pussy was going to be sore as hell.

  I took a deep breath, careful to disguise it as a pleasurable sound, and faked it. I knew the drill: arch the back, tighten my pussy around his fingers, moan, the works. Every second of it made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t have had to do it, and it aggravated and annoyed me to do it, but it did have the desired result: It got Marty’s fingers out of my pussy.

  When he put the condom on, I whispered another silent prayer that he wasn’t a minute man. After his abysmal efforts at fingering, he had to be a good fuck. He had to be. He’s a phenomenal kisser, please don’t let him be stupid with his cock.

  I got my wish. He wasn’t a minute man.

  It must have been hours later when he finally came after fucking me in the same position at the exact same speed, all the while asking if I liked it but not doing a damned thing I suggested to make it more enjoyable.

  With a sore pussy and a knot of aggravation tightening in my gut, I lay beside Marty and tried to sleep. All the while, I wondered what I was doing wrong.

  Help me out here, Darren, I haven’t got a fucking clue.

  Four

  “So how did it go with the latest Casanova?” Darren asked over the rim of his coffee cup as he watched me from across the kitchen counter.

  I rolled my eyes. “About as well as it always does.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “My God, the man just insisted he knew what he was doing. He didn’t listen to a damned thing I said.”

  “So what did he do?”

  “Skewered the hell out of me with his fingers,” I grumbled. “Insisted he knew what he was doing, but I assure you, he did not.”

  “Oh Jesus, it’s not like it’s difficult. Slow, shallow, bend the fingers a little.” He shook his head.

  My breath caught. Darren, you bastard, you’re killing me. I quickly took a sip of coffee so he didn’t notice the way I was reacting. After I swallowed it, I said, “Anyway, he might have gotten me off with his tongue if he’d taken his hand out of the picture. Out of me, for that matter.”

  “Did you suggest that to him?”

  I nodded. “More than once. I think it was just annoying him, so I stopped. I didn’t want to nag.”

  “Nag?” He snorted. “If he’s doing it wrong, he needs to either fix it or keep hearing about it until he does. Especially if it hurts.”

  I shuddered. “It did.”

  “If his fingers were hurting your pussy, he had no business being anywhere near your pussy.”

  “It was a little late for that.”

  He shrugged again. “Doesn’t mean he needed to keep doing it.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Throw him out of bed?”

  He shrugged, then looked at me and said matter-of-factly, “I would’ve.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, if he was hurting you and insisted he knew what he was doing, then yeah, call it off.” He sipped his coffee and gestured dismissively. “Life is too short for bad sex, particularly with someone who has no interest in improving it.”

  I let out an annoyed hiss of breath. “Well, I don’t quite have the spine for that, I guess.”

  “Not yet. But you will.” He raised an eyebrow. “So how did you finally get him to stop?”

  “Faked an orgasm and let him fuck me.”

  “Was he at least decent there?”

  I groaned.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t be a minute man,” I said, glaring into my coffee cup. “Careful what you wish for, I guess. The man lasted all damned night.”

  Darren set his coffee down and cocked his head. “So, what am I missing here?”

  “He lasted all night.” I sipped my coffee “In the same position. At the same speed. All. Damned. Night.”

  He grimaced. “Oh Jesus.”

  “Exactly. I suggested a couple of different positions, but he insisted that he wanted it that way. Never mind what I wanted, he wanted it that way.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Philistine.”

  I thumbed the handle on my coffee cup. “Maybe I’m just not asking for the right things, or I’m not telling him the right way.”

  “Well,” he said with a shrug. “I assume you’re speaking in the English language, and not using some sort of Womanese metaphors.”

  “I thought I was being clear,” I laughed. “Maybe I’m not.”

  “Have you tried, say, guiding his hands? You know, body language?”

  “I’ve tried, but as soon as I let go of his hand, it goes right back where it was before.” I sighed and shook my head. “I swear I feel like a virgin leading the impotent sometimes.”

  He laughed. “I just don’t get where you’re finding these men who don’t know what they’re doing. It’s not exactly rocket science. Any man who doesn’t take the time to make sure a woman is thoroughly satisfied is not worth getting into bed.”

  And the more we talk about this, the more I want to get you into bed. I swallowed. “I don’t know. I can’t expect them to read my mind.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m not communicating it well enough. I mean, it’s just…weird…”

  “Asking for what you want?”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “What am I supposed to say? I feel like an ass when I try to put it into words.”

  “Ah, that might be part of the problem, then,” he said.

  I cocked my head. “What?”

  “Lack of confidence.” He set his coffee down and ran a hand through his hair. “How is a guy supposed to know you want him to lick your clit if you can’t tell him?”

  My cheeks were on fire then. What I wouldn’t have given for the confidence to ask him to do that very thing right then. I’d been attracted to him since time immemorial, but the more we talked about this, the more I learned how much he loved pleasing a woman, the more I wanted him. I sighed.

  He smiled. “That’s what I thought.” He folded his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “You just have to get up the confidence to make it clear what you want. Does it embarrass you to have a man eat your pussy?”

  I chewed my lip. He said it so matter-of-factly, so unabashedly. It shouldn’t have surprised me coming from him, but it wasn’t comfortable to discuss with anyone. I took a breath. “I don’t think any man has gone down on me long enough to embarrass me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Neanderthals.” He looked at me again. “Really, though, if it doesn’t embarrass you to have him do something to you, why be embarrassed about asking him to do it?”

  I wetted my lips and avoided his eyes. He was

  absolutely right, but I didn’t know if that revelation would magically grant me the confidence to be able to ask for it.

  “Honestly, Marisa,” he said. “Assuming you’re with a man who’s worth fucking, there probably isn’t much you can ask him to do that would surprise him or make him uncomfortable.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “If he’s worth fucking, then he wants to please you, and trust me, there is nothing more frustrating for a man than trying to please a woman and not getting any feedback one way or the other.”

>   “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  He smiled. “Really, all you have to do is ask. If he won’t do it, then boot his ass out of bed and find someone who will.”

  Like you? I sipped my coffee, rolling it around in my mouth as I rolled his words around in my head.

  “I’ve been with a few women who had a hard time with this,” he said.

  You don’t say. “Really?”

  He nodded. “One girl, she just couldn’t bring herself to ask for anything, and I wasn’t getting anywhere with her. We were both getting frustrated as hell.” He shook his head, pursing his lips. “Finally, I told her, ‘I want to please you, but you’ve got to give me some feedback so I know if I’m doing the right thing.’” He shrugged. “So she told me. It took a while, but she started talking more.”

  “And it got better?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “After that, it was incredible.”

  “Lucky woman,” I said with a laugh.

  He shook his head. “Not lucky. Communicative. She told me what she wanted, and I gave it to her.” He paused for a second. "I do that with every woman. I’m not a mind reader, so she has to tell me what she wants.”

  “Does it really vary that much? From woman to woman?”

  “Absolutely. And from night to night with the same woman. Sometimes she wants a man to make love to her. Sometimes she wants to be thrown around and fucked within an inch of her life. I just let her tell me—implicitly or explicitly—what she wants. And I give it to her.”

  Darren, you’re killing me. “Sounds like some of the men I’ve dated could use a few lessons from you.”

  He chuckled. “No, they need lessons from you.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “It’s just a confidence thing,” he said. “You’ll get it. You have to learn to be a bit shameless. Don't be embarrassed of your own desires. Sex means getting vulnerable with another person just as much as it means asking them to be vulnerable with you; if you can't ask for what you want, then what's the point?"